


Chloe's Tale

by captain_starcat



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_starcat/pseuds/captain_starcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My Chemical Romance recorded The Black Parade at the supposedly-haunted Paramour Mansion outside of Los Angeles. What if one of those ghosts was a recently-deceased fangirl?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chloe's Tale

**Author's Note:**

> This all started when [Kaylie](http://kayliemalinza.livejournal.com) and I brainstormed an epic..._thing_, in which the ghosts of the Paramour are characters and interact with the band. All sorts of shenanigans ensue, but this was the only actual fic that came of it.
> 
> Originally posted Oct. 19, 2007

It had been five years since _something_ had pushed her into the basement, locked the door, and let the darkness painstakingly tear her apart without leaving a single physical mark, and Chloe was bored. She passed the time on various fansites, YouTube, and, ironically, LiveJournal (she'd tried DeadJournal for a bit for the hell of it, but had switched back. LJ's user base was _way_ bigger) and by talking with the Paramour's other resident ghosts. Despite her frail melodrama, Madeline was good for a chat now and then, and though Benny was annoying and gave the impression of being constantly stoned, she generally liked his taste in music. George could be fun to talk to, though whenever she engaged him in conversation, he would often repeat the play-by-play of the pistol duel that ended his life over a hundred years ago. After the fifth time, she decided enough was enough and avoided their conversations if she could help it.

But for the most part, Chloe kept to herself in the house. The internet was her last link to the outside world of the living, and she was immensely grateful that the poltergeist, Sid, hid her laptop a few weeks before her death. Even if she had been really pissed at the time. She wrote about missing her friends, parents, sister and even that nice old lady next door who would invite her over for tea; regretting not attending her own funeral; her stolen future. Not to mention the usual squealing about what her favorite bands and celebrities were up to this week. Working the computer while dead, however, was not an easy task; her comments and posts were filled with typos and weird symbols, and no one really took her seriously. But any sort of contact was preferable to slowly going crazy with only the other ghosts as company.

Rare breaks from the monotony came when new people moved into the house. Nobody stayed very long; the general aura and creepy feel, not to mention the poltergeist, Sid, drove out prospective homeowners quickly. In recent years, the tenants were bands, staying to write or record an album, then moving out. Chloe even knew a few of them, and managed to annoy the hell out of the other residents with her ecstatic freaking out.

All things considered, it was a depressing nonexistence.

*~*~*~*

 

That all changed one eventful day, five years after her death. The sound of an approaching vehicle pulled Chloe away from her laptop and out of the trunk she claimed as her lair to investigate. New tenants were always interesting, and even if it was just another guy come to check the plumbing, it was better than _nothing_.

"What've we got, George?" she yelled down the stairs in the general direction of the library.

George drifted out of a side hallway and called up at her, "New tenants, it looks like! More musicians!" At this, Chloe's metaphorical heart gave an exited flutter. Several of her very favorite bands recently announced their intention to record a new album in the upcoming months, and a few were even in the area.... She went to go stalk the front door.

*~*~*~*

 

Lurking next to the potted plant in the front hallway, Chloe sighed impatiently. Whoever they were, the visitors were taking forever to unload their van. She wished she could go outside and look; the suspense was almost painful. But she'd seen Beetlejuice—she didn't want to end up on Jupiter or whatever that weird sandy place was, and there was no sense taking chances. Just as she started to get into a nice long movie thought-tangent to distract herself and alleviate the boredom, she heard a snatch of conversation from out front:

"…and the guy even said it was haunted, too! Good thing I brought the demon kit…"  
"Shit, Gerard, you still _have_ that thing?"  
"Hey, you never know when you might need it."  
"Hey Ray, remember when he made you steal that holy water?"  
"Oh god, don't remind me."

The sounds of laughter drew closer to the door. Chloe felt weak. She recognized those voices, she knew who these people were. A startled squeak escaped her. "_Them_? _Here_? Ohmigodholycrap_really_?!?"

Her last indignant thought before her knees gave out and everything went dark was that ghosts weren't _supposed_ to faint.


End file.
